Page 102 of Murder on the Page

“Zilch.”

“Let me have a go.”

I gave her the cell phone.

Fingers tapping and swiping, she landed on Rick’s profile within minutes. She grunted. “Honestly? His nickname is Ricochet? How cheesy.”

Ricochet. Get real!“Um, do you think your mother has a profile, too?”

“I sure hope not.” She keyed in her mother’s name and,finding no one, not a single person named Noeline or any facsimile of the name, she breathed easier. “I’ve got to tell her he’s doing this.”

“You don’t know that he’s active. This could be an old profile.”

“Except he still has that fob on his key chain.”

“So does Katrina, and she’s no longer using the app.”

“I suppose.”

“Let’s table it for the rest of the day,” I said. “We have the book club to prepare for. After that, you’ll come up with a way to break it to your mother. She might find it funny.”

“Hardy-har.” Tegan grimaced. “Not.”

CHAPTER25

“But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence.”

—Fitzwilliam Darcy, in Jane Austen’sPride and Prejudice

At noon, I ran out to pick up some turkey-salami sub sandwiches for us. I ate mine in the office and fed Darcy a can of his favorite chicken pâté. He purred his delight, happy as a clam at being a guest at the shop. About midafternoon, I saw him walking along the desktop in the office, peering out through the picture window. He wasn’t necessarily apeoplecat—other than me and Tegan, and yes, Zach—and he was most certainly not achildcat, but he did like to know what was going on. By end of day, Tegan murmured it was a good thing all three of us had been on board to ring up customers. Sales had exceeded expectations.

At six, leaving Darcy snoozing peacefully in the office, I sped home to fetch the goodies I’d made to serve to the book club. When I returned, I offered to make coffee—heaven forbid I allow Chloe to do so—and Chloe set out the food. I teetered when I saw the bottles of water she’d placed on the snack table.

“Chloe, where did you get those?” I rasped.

“From the refrigerator in the stockroom. We’d run out, so I picked up a case this morning on my way to work. I stowed them in the refrigerator to chill.”

They were fresh. Untainted. Phew.

At six thirty, attendees started to arrive. Five could sit on the L-shaped couch and a few might take the beanbags or midcentury modern chairs, but there would be close to fifteen, so Tegan had put out folding chairs. Stella and Lillian, dressed to the nines, put their purses on the couch and ambled to the table of scones, cookies, and dishes of trifle. Their appreciative oohs and aahs for the trifle made me proud. It would go over well at the memorial. Piper, in a short-sleeved silk blouse and trousers, sneaked up behind them and poked them. Startled, the two women turned and laughed.

Piper said, “Nice to see you, ladies.”

“You too, Piper,” Stella and Lillian chimed.

I spotted a bandage on Piper’s arm, which I hadn’t noticed before. She’d admitted to coming into the bookshop the day Marigold died. Did they argue? Did they struggle? Did Marigold scratch her?

Stop, Allie. She told Zach her alibi, and the student confirmed it. She’s not a suspect.

The three women group-hugged and moved to the reading nook, each expressing how sad it was Marigold wouldn’t be here to guide them in the discussion.

A few more people arrived. Zach and Bates showed up in tandem. Bates made a beeline for the coffee. Zach slowed near the book island. He was studying his cell phone.

For a new lead,I prayed. I approached and he smiled, but the smile didn’t meet his eyes. My insides snagged as I realized my feelings for him might never be reciprocated.

“Hi.” Keeping my tone breezy, I said, “Did Katrina Carlson touch base with you today?”

He pursed his lips. “She did, but for the record, whether or not you believe her—”

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